


Since feeling is first

by mydaysthetic



Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Fluff and Softness, Multi, college!day6, myday secret santa 2018, originally written in comic sans because supposedly it helps, you're a literature student, younghyun is annoying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-25 21:16:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17128889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydaysthetic/pseuds/mydaysthetic
Summary: “It’s a love poem, right?” Jaehyung asks, surprising you.“Yes,” you say.He looks down and rubs his index finger absentmindedly over the words. “I think what he means,” he says, “is that sometimes feelings are too beautiful for words.”_______You like the bespectacled stranger in the library, and he may or may not like you too.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [janneralisation](https://archiveofourown.org/users/janneralisation/gifts).



> this work is a gift to @parkjaeins on twitter for myday secret santa 2018! 🎁
> 
> to @parkjaeins: I kinda had writer's block for a while but since I received your prompt it pushed me to write and I got to try things with writing that I haven't really done before, so thank you!! I had a lot of fun with this ^^

_“Eyes are the window to the soul.”_  

 

Stepping out into the cold of the late night early morning from the library, you stretch your arms out in front of you and yawn. The essay you had been writing for the past five hours was now tucked, freshly printed, in a folder in your backpack. You check the time on your phone. 1:32 AM, it reads.

The door opens behind you. There is a pause, then someone speaks. “Excuse me, is this yours?”

You turn toward the voice, and your heart catches when you see who it belongs to.

_Him._

“What?” you ask, flustered.

“This,” the source of the voice offers you your mechanical pencil. “I think you left it in the library.”

“Ah, thank you.” You take the pencil from his hand, trying to avoid brushing fingers with him. 

He shrugs, and flashes you a smile before heading off into the night.

Oh, you've got it bad.

As you walk back to your dorm, his smile imprinted in your mind, you think of the past few weeks.

_Him._

In the same place, in the same chair, of the same library on campus.

You are in your third year of university. As a literature major, the heavy workload of constant essays and reading started almost immediately when the term began in August, so you found yourself in the library for hours upon hours, laptop fan constantly spinning and fingertips dry from turning page after page of text.

As the hot summer faded into autumn and the leaves of the trees on campus bloomed into spectacular reds and yellows, you notice him.

In the library, there is an unspoken ownership over seats. You sit in a chair at the end of one of the long tables, near the floor-to-ceiling window that looks out over the main walkway of the university. He sits facing you, two tables away.

Sometimes, when you couldn’t focus on the dense passages of your textbook, you find your eyes wandering to this stranger. His hair is light brown and usually messy, like he had only just woken up and gone out like that. Your eyes trail over his slightly crooked nose that you find somehow charming, his pretty-shaped lips, his sharp jawline. Perched on his face is a pair of circular, wire-framed glasses, lensless you assumed, as you had never seen a reflection from them. His skin is clear and milky like porcelain, and to you it seemed that if one was not careful he might break like porcelain too. All of his features combined suggested a delicate quality, and this gave you the vague urge to protect him. Although you hadn’t seen them up close, his eyes had always seemed gentle and honest to you, and as part of a deep feeling in your heart that you dismissed and tried your best to push away, you had the desire to stare into his eyes and hold whatever wonders he might have in his gaze in yours.

It’s ridiculous, really. All you know about him is that he comes to the library sometimes. You don’t even know his name. Yet for some inexplicable reason, he intrigues you; you want to know him, you want to hear him speak, you want to see his eyes for yourself.

You have a full-blown, heart-shaking crush on him.

And as you walk back to your dorm in the darkness, pencil in hand, you amuse yourself with silly fantasies. Maybe he notices you too. Maybe he wants to talk to you too. Maybe he likes you too.

After all, you reasoned, heart fluttering, he did give you back your pencil.

Suddenly, your phone buzzes. You see the ID and answer the call. “What do you want?” you say.

“Come over, it’s important,” the voice on the other end of the line says.

“Younghyun, are you making ramen right now?”

He snickers. “Yes, help me eat it.”

“I’m going home,” you say, but at 2:00 in the morning you find yourself slurping hot noodles on the couch of your best friend’s dorm, binging anime.

“I have class at 9:00 today,” you say, mouth full.

“Me too, but I have priorities,” he says, not looking up. Younghyun really loves his food.

“AH!” he suddenly yells, causing you to spit out some of your ramen. You curse at him.

Unbothered he says, “The band’s first performance is next Saturday at the winter festival! You should come watch us instead of holing up in the library all day.”

The mention of the library makes you think about the bespectacled stranger, and the corners of your lips rise into a smile.

Younghyun peers at you curiously. “What?”

You look down at your food and shake your head. “Nothing.”

Younghyun always observes people, and now he watches you carefully with his fox-like eyes, but doesn’t say anything else.

After a few minutes he brings up the performance again. “We’ve been practicing for three months now.  And we even have original songs! You should really come watch us, since you refused to go to our practices.”

You met Younghyun at the beginning of freshman year. He’s a business administration major, so you didn’t have any classes in common, but he was very friendly at orientation and you had exchanged phone numbers. You became closer over time and now you and he are best friends.

He likes to sing and play bass, so a few weeks into this school year he had posted a vague ad on the online student commentary board looking for “individuals who can play instruments and want to be in a band.” You teased him and told him that no one would show up with wording like that, but you were wrong, and he had assembled a 5-piece group within the month.

Like he had said, you were always working in the library, so you have not even met the members of his band, but Younghyun would talk about them often. Sungjin, who has a raspy singing voice and super neat habits and acts like a dad. Wonpil, piano man with a serious demeanor, but who is actually a very warm person. Dowoon, the youngest of the five and the drummer, who didn’t speak much at the beginning but who could now not be shut up. Jaehyung, tall and chic guitarist, but in Younghyun’s teasing words, “is a dork.”

Younghyun really pays attention well, and although you had yet to meet his members, you imagined that you might be able to pick out who is who based on your best friend’s detailed stories told to you on those early mornings over ramen.

“So will you come?” he asks, as the anime episode you two had been watching comes to an end.

“Sure,” you answer, picking up the empty ramen pot and chopsticks and taking them to the sink. “I want to hear your breakup songs. Who are they about this time? Convenience store girl?”

“Hey,” he says, “Don’t talk about that.” Younghyun is always getting his heart broken, so he always has material for songs. You already know what they sound like, as he constantly asks you for your opinion on lyrics and melodies.

To get back at you he says, “I’m surprised you’re actually going. Since when did you have a social life?”

You glare at him from the kitchen. “At least I’m concentrating on getting an education. I don’t know about you.”

“Ha ha, so funny.” It is a lame comeback because, although it seems like all Younghyun does is watch anime and eat and sleep, he is actually able to balance all of that with his many romantic endeavours and his band practices and his songwriting, while still maintaining decent grades in school. He is kind of superhuman in that way.

“You need to go out and party. Meet some guys. Get a boyfriend.”

“Yeah, no thanks.” You think about your library boy and feel the heat rising to your face. You don’t turn around from the sink, because you didn’t want Younghyun to see you blushing.

“I should set you up with one of my members,” he says.

“I can find someone for myself,” you answer, a bit too quickly.

“Oh?”

“What?”

Younghyun laughs. “You can find someone for yourself? What exactly do you mean by that?”

You don’t answer.

“Do you like someone?” he asks.

“No,” you say. From your tone, it’s obvious that you’re lying.

“You do!” Younghyun exclaims.

You turn to face him, throwing your hands up. “I don’t!”

It’s too late though, because he is already going on about you, and who your crush might be, and dating, and how-can-you-even-meet-people-anyway-because-you’re-in-the-library-all-the-time.

“Shut up Younghyun. I’m going home. I have class in a few hours.”

“Hey, bring your man to the winter festival next week.”

“I’m leaving!” you say, slamming the door on your best friend’s smug face.

The next week goes by like any other, in the library working like you always do. Younghyun has gone missing and doesn’t answer your calls, probably practicing for their performance that Saturday. Interestingly, pencil stranger has also disappeared. You had imagined actually going up to him and asking him to go with you to the winter festival but he hadn’t been showing up at the library and, oh right, you didn’t even know him and he didn’t know you.

That Saturday morning you wake to a short text message from Younghyun.

“!!!!!!!!!!!”

You work on homework for a few hours in your dorm, and at around 3:00 you bundle up in layers of jackets and tie a scarf around your neck. “Why a festival in winter,” you mutter as you step out of the dorm complex into the grey afternoon of the first of December.

You arrive at the makeshift stage set up on the big lawn near the science buildings. Other students are already there, breathing icy clouds in the cold. You text Younghyun but he doesn’t reply.

Your best friend’s voice suddenly blasts through a speaker. “We are starting soon!” You turn toward the stage, still empty except for instruments and amps and cords.

You think about your pencil stranger. You wonder if he goes to events like these or if right now he is sitting in the library in his normal spot, doing work for his classes or studying for finals (and wondering where you are, perhaps).

You stand on tip toe and scan the growing crowd of people, looking for the messy brown hair and the trademark wire-framed glasses.

The crowd begins cheering. The band is walking on stage. You are still looking through the crush of people, which was now big enough to cover most of the lawn. Your eyes search over bundled faces and heads covered in knit hats. You are pushed forward from behind.

“Let’s introduce ourselves,” a voice on stage says.

“1, 2, 3… Hello, we are Day6!”

The crowd screams.

You give up on finding him, so you fall flat on your feet, slightly disappointed. You turn toward the stage and, almost immediately, your heartbeat speeds up to as fast as the tempo of the upbeat song the band is now playing.

You see him.

You couldn’t find him in the crowd because he wasn’t in the crowd.

Mind racing you go through the stories that Younghyun had told you about the members. You see Wonpil on the right, playing keyboard. Younghyun is next to him, jamming on bass. You see Sungjin, acoustic guitar in hand. Dowoon is in the back, on drums.

And then there he is. On the left, fingers running nimbly over a worn electric guitar. He is smiling and singing into a mic, messy brown hair blowing around in the wind.

You now know pencil stranger’s name.

_Jaehyung._

 


	2. Chapter 2

_Come backstage!_ , the text from Younghyun reads.

You turn off your phone and put it in your pocket. Your heart is racing, and you are conflicted over whether to go and meet him or run as fast as you can out of there.

Your feet, seemingly independent of your body, begin walking you in the direction of backstage.

You see Younghyun, and he grabs your arm and drags you over to where the members are, huddled together with hot drinks in hand for warmth.

Your best friend introduces you. You give a small smile and bow your head slightly. They bow back politely and tell you their names.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Sungjin says.

Jaehyung doesn’t seem to recognize you, and you breathe out a sigh of relief. You avoid looking at him directly.

“You guys were brilliant!” you say. Although the band is still rough around the edges, they obviously have the potential for great chemistry on stage, and the reaction of the audience was enough proof of that.

“I think they really liked us,” Wonpil says, excitedly. “People were actually cheering for us! It’s almost like we’re famous.”

You make small talk with the members and you see for yourself all the little details that Younghyun had told you about before. Wonpil and Dowoon are indeed the comedians of the group and they make you laugh, messing around and cracking jokes. Sungjin has a charming dialect and speaks so politely to you that you can’t help but smile. Jaehyung is quiet, but he chimes in with laughter and exclamations of “what are you talking about” every once in a while. Younghyun just shakes his head, grinning and sipping from his coffee.

“What is your major?” Jaehyung asks you. Your heart flutters at his direct question.

“Literature,” you answer, trying to keep your voice calm.

“I’m a poli-sci major,” he says. “I have some friends who are literature majors. You must always be working in the library.”

You nod. You must too, you want to say, but you don’t.

You feel him staring intently at you. You don’t look up, and instead turn your eyes to the ground.

“Oh!” he suddenly says.

Uh-oh.

“I know you! You sit two tables away from me in the library! I gave you your pencil that one time last week.”

Uh-oh.

Younghyun was drinking his coffee but when he sees your face, he starts choking.

“Hyung, are you okay?” Dowoon asks, patting him on the back.

Younghyun covers his mouth and coughs while trying to stifle his laughter.

“You two know each other?” Wonpil asks.

Before you can say no, Jaehyung answers, “Yes! Well, sort of. I always see her in the library.”

On the outside you continue to be calm, but your internal voice is screaming. HE REMEMBERS YOU, it is saying. HE KNOWS WHO YOU ARE.

Younghyun mutters, “I guess you _can_ meet people in the library.”

He is standing next to you, so you are able to kick him subtly in the ankle.

While Younghyun yells and the members look at him in confusion, you pull out your phone to make up an excuse about needing to call your mom, and politely step away from the band. They all wave, and before you turn around you catch a glimpse of Jaehyung’s bright smile.

As you walk away, you hear him say, “Hope to talk to you again soon!”

Jerk, you think, for being so nice.

You’re not even ten meters away when you get an aggressive all-caps text from Younghyun. _JAEHYUNG? YOU LIKE JAEHYUNG???????_

You shake your head and shove your phone in your pocket. A few moments later you pull it out again and type back rapidly, _YES NOW SHUT UP._

That evening you do homework in your dorm, avoiding the library. You have shut off your phone completely, and are attempting to concentrate on writing an analysis essay on Pablo Neruda’s love poems (which are definitely NOT helping). For the past few hours your mind had kept returning to thoughts of him, of what he had said, of whether it mattered or not. The digital numbers of your bedside clock blink to 8:00 PM and you still had not written much, so you give up and shut your laptop in defeat.

You lie back on your pillows and stare at the ceiling. It’s a crush, you thought. A silly, juvenile crush that doesn’t matter. But you know his name now, you’ve met him, and he’s in your best friend’s band. Hope is blossoming in your heart, and you can’t stop it.

You grab your phone and turn it on. There are 53 messages from Younghyun.

You scroll past them and see a notification from a number you don’t recognize. The text is only one word: _Hi._

Curious, you reply, _Hello?_

A few minutes later, you receive another message. _This is Jaehyung._

Your eyes widen. _Jaehyung?_

 _Yes._ He asks you if you are who you are.

_That’s me._

_Oh good_ , he replies. _Younghyun gave me your number._

“Ah really,” you say out loud, smiling. You wouldn’t admit it but you are kind of thankful for your best friend’s meddling.

 _What’s up?_ , you ask.

There is a pause. The three dots that indicate that he is typing pop up, then disappear, then pop up again. Finally he says, _Just wondering where you were today._

 _Where I was?_ , you reply, heart racing.

_You weren’t at the library._

You grab your pillow and scream into it. You agonize for a few seconds over what to say, then you type back, _I just wanted to study in my dorm today._

_Oh._

You take a leap of faith and say, _Why? Did you want to see me there?_

He doesn’t reply right away, and you are beginning to regret asking that.

But then: _Maybe._

And: _We could study together._

He adds like an afterthought: _If you want._

You reply so quickly that you worry about seeming too eager. _Sure._

 _Okay!_ , he responds.

You wrap yourself up in your blanket, grinning. You begin to type another message, but he replies first with, _Have a good night~_

You are kind of disappointed that the conversation has ended so quickly. _Oh. Okay. Good night._

He doesn’t reply, so you go back to working on your essay. Fifteen minutes later, your phone rings with another notification. _Sleep well._

You think about confessing everything right now, spilling all of your feelings about his eyes and his smile and his beautiful singing voice that you had heard for the first time today, but you remember that you still don’t know him well enough yet. You decide on a simple _You too, Jaehyung._

It is near impossible for you to focus on your homework now, so you close your textbooks and laptop, and get ready for bed. “Besides,” you say to yourself, “I’ll definitely be in the library tomorrow.”


	3. Chapter 3

“So did he text you yesterday?” Younghyun asks you, over his lunch of tofu stew from the cafeteria.

“Yes,” you say, not looking up from your own food.

“Are you guys, like, dating now?”

You raise your eyes and glare at him. “Shut up.”

“Just asking. I want to see how well my matchmaking is working.”

You wipe your mouth with a napkin, and sit back in your chair. “What matchmaking? I saw him in the library before I knew that he’s in your band.”

“I was the one who actually introduced you guys. And I gave him your phone number.” He finishes his rice. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Sure.” You roll your eyes at him.

He laughs, and returns his attention to the rest of his lunch. “Oh right,” he says some minutes later. “Sungjin’s sister is having a party on the Saturday after finals. We’re performing! It will be our second gig!”

“Ah, that’s cool!”

“You’re invited. It’s going to be a warm-fun-holiday kind of party so we’re allowed to bring our friends. You can be my guest.” He gives you a mischievous grin. “Unless you want to be Jaehyung’s.”

“Stop it,” you say, but you’re grinning. “I’ll go.”

”Good,” Younghyun says. A few minutes later he shakes his head. “I still can’t believe you like Jaehyung. What a great coincidence.”

”Why is it great?”

“Because you guys are connected by me!”

You roll your eyes, and he laughs.

Younghyun finishes the last of his stew. “No, I mean that he’s not some stranger. I know him, and Jaehyung is a good guy. So it’ll work out.”

”I only hope so.”

“Hey.” He points his chopsticks at you and looks you straight in the eye. “It’ll work out. And if it doesn’t you can kick me.”

You smile. “Thanks, Younghyun.”

After your afternoon class you go over to the library. Finals are in three weeks, so almost all the tables are occupied. You have obnoxiously spread out your work so that no one would sit around you.

“Hey is anyone sitting here?” You look up and see Jaehyung standing above you with his whole 182 centimeters, flashing you a smile.

“No, it’s yours.” you reply, moving your things and gesturing grandly at the seat across from you. He sits and pulls out his laptop, textbooks, and binder.

There is an awkward silence, so your mind scrambles for something to say. “Are you preparing for finals week?”

“Yup,” he replies. “I really need to get a good grade on the political theory exam.”

He looks over at your papers. “What are you studying?”

“e. e. cummings. It’s his poem ‘Since feeling is first.’” You smile. “It’s one of my favorites.”

“Can I read it?”

”Sure.” You pass him your textbook. 

> “since feeling is first
> 
> who pays any attention
> 
> to the syntax of things
> 
> will never wholly kiss you;
> 
> wholly to be a fool
> 
> while Spring is in the world
> 
>  
> 
> my blood approves
> 
> and kisses are a better fate
> 
> than wisdom
> 
> lady i swear by all flowers. Don't cry
> 
> —the best gesture of my brain is less than
> 
> your eyelids' flutter which says
> 
>  
> 
> we are for each other: then
> 
> laugh, leaning back in my arms
> 
> for life's not a paragraph
> 
>  
> 
> and death i think is no parenthesis”
> 
> \- e. e. cummings

You expect him to give you your textbook back and politely say, “that was nice,” and react in the same way that anyone else who you had tried to share poetry and novels did, with indifference or boredom. This was why you didn’t really share literature with others anymore. Because the people you had told in the past wouldn’t understand and wouldn’t try to.

“It’s a love poem, right?” Jaehyung asks, surprising you.

“Yes,” you say.

He looks down and rubs his index finger absentmindedly over the words. “I think what he means,” he says, “is that sometimes feelings are too beautiful for words.”

You watch him carefully, this guy you used to watch from afar, a person who was once a stranger but who you now have chance at knowing. He’s not wearing his glasses this time and his hair has been brushed, but his bangs are almost covering his eyes. You notice that he has an endearing habit of blinking rapidly every once in a while and you feel your heartbeat quicken.

He continues. “That the way you feel is more important than describing it. Or that things like--” he quotes the poem, “‘your eyelids’ flutter’ hold more than any poem does.” He slides your book back to you. “It’s ironic isn’t it? He wrote a poem about words not being enough.”

“Exactly,” you say, softly. He looks up and meets your eyes. He has stars in his.

Studying together in the library becomes a normal thing. Jaehyung does not go every day, as he has practice with the band, but when he does he sits in what has become his regular seat across from you and asks you for the poem of the day. You didn’t have a new one at first, but now you’re prepared every time.

You usually study into the early hours of the next morning, so you walk him back to his dorm before going to yours. The second week, he asks if you want to go out for “late night breakfast.” You laugh and say sure and you walk with him to a jjajangmyeon place across the street from your university that doesn’t close until three and that you didn’t know existed until he brought you there.

“I should go out more,” you had said, mouth full of noodles.

”You should,” he’d replied, black bean sauce smeared on his mouth.

That day he had been really tired so he fell asleep on the table before the food arrived. You had almost ruffled his hair, but pulled away your hand before you could.

Through spending all this time with Jaehyung, you get to know him better, and he gets to know you. He tells you about his sister and his hometown and playing guitar with the band. You tell him about your childhood and books you’ve read and being friends with Younghyun. You two talk about petty things and important things and silly things and serious things and everything.

“Can I ask you something?” you say, on one of the walks after studying at the library.

”Sure.”

You look down at your feet, wondering if maybe you shouldn’t, but go ahead with it anyway.

“Why do you wear glasses without lenses? I’ve been curious.”

He doesn’t reply at first, scratching his head shyly. “Well,” he begins, “‘I’m kind of self-conscious. About my eyes.”

He pushes the glasses up on his face. “My eyes are small. They’re nothing special. Wearing glasses makes me feel more confident, I guess. And I blink a lot.”

You stop walking. He stops too, and turns to face you.

You look at his face, glowing in the light of the walkway lamp. You try to meet his gaze, but he averts his eyes, and seems to become very interested in the ground instead.

“I like your eyes,” you say simply.

“You do?”

You realize that what you are about to say will sound like a confession, but you want him to hear this. “When I saw you in the library, before I knew you, I remember thinking about what it might be like to see your eyes. I wanted to know how much they hold. And when I actually saw them up close…” You take a step forward.

“Your eyes are beautiful, Jaehyung. You’ve got stars in them.”

He doesn’t say anything. You can see the breath from his nose in the cold. Snow is beginning to fall.

“What timing,” he says, looking up at the sky. You see a smile form on his lips.

You reach out and carefully take off his glasses, then tuck them in your pocket. You notice some tears on his cheeks, so you raise your gloved fingers to his face and gently rub them away.

He catches your hand in his, and with his other hand brushes the stray strands of hair that had gotten in your face behind your ear. He leans in slowly. You have your eyes open, and you’re lost in his, as the space between the two of you lessens every second.

He stops, mere centimeters away from your lips.

You close the distance.

The kiss is soft and light and warm. He moves an arm around your waist and pulls you closer. He is unwavering, but almost fragile, and you feel his vulnerability; taking a chance as if he is holding his heart out to you with the hope that you’ll embrace it for all it’s cracks and imperfections.  _I’ll_ _accept_ _you_ , you try to say without words. _For_ _whoever_ _you_ _are_.

Seconds, moments, what feels like hours later, you both pull away, and you see him blushing. You laugh, because you’re sure he can see you blushing too. The snow is falling harder now, and a thin layer has formed on the ground. He is still holding your hand.

“I think,” Jaehyung says after a brief silence, “that e. e. cummings is right.”

“What?”

He grins. “His poem, remember? Sometimes feelings are too beautiful for words.”

You smile, and intertwine your fingers with his.

“Hey,” he says. You meet his gaze.

Without warning, he gives you a quick kiss on the cheek, then runs away. You chase after him, scooping up snow from the ground and throwing it. He does the same, and now the both of you are having a snowball fight in the early dark hours of the morning, laughing and yelling and tripping over your own feet.

He falls, so you stop to check if he’s okay. You offer him a hand and he takes it, but then pulls you so that you fall on him. The two of you are a giggy tangled mess of legs and jackets and snowflakes.

“I’m cold,” you say.

“Me too.”

You stand, then help him up. Wordlessly, he pulls you into a hug. You embrace him back, and he rests his chin on the top of your head. He smells like orange soap and spring. You close your eyes and savor the moment.

“Thank you,” you hear Jaehyung say quietly, almost whispering. You respond by holding him to you even more tightly.

Despite the cold and the snow that continues to fall with no indication of stopping, you two are warm in each other’s arms.


	4. Epilogue

“Finals are over!”

This is the first thing Younghyun says as he dramatically flings open the door of Sungjin’s sister’s place.

"What if it wasn't me?" you say.

"Don't worry, I already did this two times earlier."

You step in and take off your shoes. Strings of colorful lights have been hung at the tops of the walls, casting friendly oranges and reds and greens and blues off the white wallpaper.

“You’re here!” Wonpil suddenly comes out of nowhere with a plate of cookies. Dowoon pops up next to him, holding cake. You laugh and take the deserts from them.

Sungjin and Jaehyung are tuning their guitars in a corner of the room. Sungjin waves grandly, causing you to laugh.

“Hi,” you say to Jaehyung.

“Hello,” he replies.

He adjusts the red scarf you are wearing so that it covers your chin. You laugh and take his hand, folding your fingers with his. He playfully swings your arm back and forth.

“Hey we get it, you’re dating.” Younghyun appears and nudges you in the shoulder, grinning. “I told you it would work out, didn’t I? So you can’t kick me.” He turns to Jaehyung, “We’re performing soon.”

A few minutes later, the band gets ready. Dowoon is sitting on a cajon this time, instead of a drum set. Wonpil has his keyboard. Jaehyung and Sungjin have acoustic guitars. Younghyun has a tambourine.

They perform holiday covers, starting from “The Christmas Song,” to “Last Christmas” to a rousing rendition of “Jingle Bell Rock” that lifts everyone out of their seats to dance. Jaehyung keeps looking at you while he’s singing, and he winks when he catches your eye.

After their set, you help them pack up their cords and instruments. They are chattering excitedly, going over the highlights of their performance and what to work on next practice. Jaehyung presses his blue guitar pick and a small box into your hand. “It’s not much, but this is for you.”

Inside the box is a pretty bracelet with charms shaped like books with the titles of classic novels. “Thank you!” you say, putting it on immediately. You hold up his guitar pick. “I’ll take care of this too.”

You feel guilty for not getting him anything and you start to apologize, but he stops you.

“You being you is more than enough,” he says.

Jerk, you think, you really are a nice guy.

You meet the other guests at the party, and strike up conversations. One of Sungjin’s sister’s friends had graduated in your department, so you talk to her for a while about her experience and your own. You see Younghyun chatting with some girl by the cupcakes. He sees you watching him and raises his eyebrows at you before continuing his conversation. You hope it works out for him this time.

As the hours pass and it gets later and later into the night, the party quiets down a bit, as the food kicks in and people retire to the sofa and chairs. You look around for Jaehyung.

Younghyun, Sungjin, Dowoon, and Wonpil suddenly hurry past you, avoiding your eyes. You look in the direction they came from and find Jaehyung standing in the entry space, in front of the door. There is mistletoe above his head.

You walk over and stand in front of him, hands on your hips. “Really?”

He holds up his hands. “The members hung it up and shoved me underneath it like ten seconds ago! I was forced.”

You mock-frown at him. “Oh so do you want me to just walk away then?” you tease.

“Um, well,” he puts his hands in his pockets, and looks shyly at you. His bangs are brushing the tops of his eyes again.

“I’m leaving, Jaehyung,” you say, turning and pretending that you’re about to walk away.

He takes his hands out of his pockets and holds his arms out, slightly pouting.

“Stop it,” you say, heart fluttering and the corners of your mouth rising into a smile.

He holds his arms up higher and grins.

“Fine, if you insist,” you say, and step into his embrace under the mistletoe.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!!


End file.
